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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26711734">love is our lifeline</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/winluvr/pseuds/winluvr'>winluvr</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Haikyuu!!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Character Study, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Getting Together, M/M, Might be OOC, Mutual Pining, Relationship Study, Slice of Life, conyo miya twins, for atsusuna, for osaomi, outsider pov, set in the Philippines</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 07:06:59</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>12,094</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26711734</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/winluvr/pseuds/winluvr</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>In the span of just two weeks, Atsumu found himself flying all the way to the Philippines on a jam-packed commercial plane and now agreeing to being the designated driver for the road trip that they had planned over a video call.</p>
</blockquote>in which Atsumu and Suna dance over each other's desires all the way over to the city of Cavite, Philippines
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Miya Atsumu/Suna Rintarou, Miya Osamu/Sakusa Kiyoomi</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>36</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>love is our lifeline</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>1. firstly, there are some tagalog words here and there to get the right vibes. there are translations provided through parentheses.<br/>2. there was an attempt to be funny, so if it fell flat, don't mind. my humor is a little off. <br/>3. the idea of hq in ph is not exactly original, but i live somewhere near cavite now, so i wanted to write a cute little piece about inarizaki there.<br/>4. formatting is off because i used another app instead of google docs which i'm used to.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“What is desire? Desire is a restaurant. Desire is watching you eat. Desire is pouring wine for you. Desire is looking at the menu and wondering what it would be like to kiss you. Desire is the surprise of your skin. Look - in between us now are the props of ordinary life - glasses, knives, cloths.”</p>
<p>— Jeanette Winterson, “The White Room”</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Holding his passport in his hand and his backpack across his chest, Atsumu has just now gotten past the procedures of boarding a plane and is now crammed into the seat beside Suna while his twin brother and his boyfriend are sitting beside each other in the seats beside them, only an aisle standing between them. A savory scent wafts through the air, and now only does Atsumu look up. A flight attendant rushes through the said aisle, leaving on their trays packages of tuna pie and 350-ml bottles of orange juice and a frozen chocolate pudding which all came free of charge with booking the flight.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Atsumu puts the complimentary food, wrappers crinkling with a soft tinkle, in the side compartment of his backpack to save it for later. Much, much later when he doesn't feel so drowsy and lethargic from staying up all night to pack his things, lock his apartment up and have his personal driver drive them all the way to the airport. He puts the black Sony headphones, which had just arrived on his doorstep two weeks ago as a PR package from an endorsement deal with the MSBY Black Jackals, from around his neck to his ears, listening to white noise from an app on his phone as he tries to sleep.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Atsumu watches as Sakusa shifts in his seat, stirring in his sleep as a small child wails in the front row the very moment the plane takes off to leave. Sakusa pulls his white parka closer around his chest. It had been a package from Adidas, the same as the rest of their team after they had taken a product shoot with them back in late July, a sneak peek at their brand new collection coming out sometime in late October. He does not take his eyes off Sakusa even as Osamu lets him lean his head on his shoulder so he can sleep in comfort. He watches as Osamu crosses his arms around his chest, pulling off his sweatshirt, the black one with the little onigiri icon from his Onigiri Miya merchandise line, and spreads it across his and Sakusa's lap.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Atsumu watches, still, as Osamu tugs his fingers through the dark of Sakusa's curls, readjusting both his sleeping mask, pale pink with a bunny print plastered across the front that covers his eyes, and the loops of his face mask around his ears. He notices Sakusa twitch under his touch, only ever the slightest of a movement, but doesn't pull away from Osamu like he would from any other person. He watches as his twin kisses the parallel moles on Sakusa's forehead and wonders just how he could be so tender. He looks away as the old feeling of invading in on a couple's personal space rushes back to the surface as he looks at them, the bridge of his cheeks flushing pink.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Atsumu looks over his shoulder to see Suna leaning against the window, his eyes fluttering shut, his face softened with sleep. He looks at Suna, holding to his chest a Minnie Mouse Ufufy plushie from a fan of his that he had brought along on the flight, and listens to him snoring softly. So, so softly. His heart wavers a little, but he does his best to ignore the pull Suna does to his chest. Maybe, just maybe, he wishes he could do the same as his brother. He does not pull Suna closer to him, nor does he lets him rest his head on his shoulder. Instead, he wraps his red shawl around Suna's arms to try and warm him up as he shivers from the cold blasts of the air conditioning.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Atsumu looks over at the window and sees the entirety of neon-lit Japan sprawling under their feet, its bright lights waving up at him and its thriving cityscape fading under the dark of his eyelids as the airplane flies further and further away, closer and closer to the sky, until they're surrounded by a sheet of clouds, once nighttime comes.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>::</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The sun filters through the window beside Suna, pressing sunshine-filled kisses to the side of his face. The whole world looks so small when they're all the way up, and now they're coming down and it's so much larger than life in their wide eyes. So much warmer now.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Atsumu's eyes flutter open at the crackling sound of Osamu finishing the rest of his wasabi potato chips that he had packed from his and Sakusa's shared pantry back at their apartment and Sakusa methodically folding the chopsticks he had used to eat the chips with and the plastic packaging to tuck it away in a clean bag and dispose of it later, as well as the whirring sound that comes from the front of the airplane as its wheels come to a halt. He looks beside him and sees Suna chewing on something, his face looking even paler now.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Suna quirks an eyebrow up at him when he notices Atsumu looking at him, confused. “The wrapper said it's a tamarind candy,” he says without Atsumu even asking what it was. “Do you want one?” He holds out his hand, his fingers closed around his palm, and reveals two more candies of the same kind, and another in menthol flavor.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I wasn't about to ask.” Atsumu smiles, still. “Where'd ya get 'em?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Suna nods his head, once, toward a smiley, little gray-haired old lady sitting near them, holding her Louis Vuitton bag towards her chest. Atsumu feels a rush of nostalgia as he looks at her in spite of not knowing her. “Granny gave it to me after she saw me looking sick.” He laughs a little despite himself as he looks at Atsumu. “It wasn't like I was about to throw up, okay. Don't give me that look.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What look are ya talkin' about?” Atsumu says, flustered by the way Suna is looking at him again with those scrutinizing eyes of his. “Hay,” he drags out in frustration, pressing his palm to his temple, “you should have woken me up and told me you were feelin' sick instead of accepting candies from people ya don't even know.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Suna looks at him with a pout on his face. Maybe, just maybe, the fleeting thought of wanting to kiss it off his mouth passes Atsumu's mind. “But granny seemed really nice and I didn't want to refuse.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Pretty much all the grannies in the world are like that, you know. Remember Kita-san's grandmother?” Atsumu says, and Suna smiles. He really, really wants to kiss the smile off his face, but he knows he can't. Instead, he keeps talking in a futile attempt to distract himself. “Obaa-han even knitted us matching sweaters last Christmas. Aran-kun cried back then. And I know you would 'ave cried, too.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Osamu shifts in the seat beside them, moving to zip up the pockets of his light gray carry-on bag, which had been the exact same shade of his hair back in high school, where he and Atsumu had dyed it in opposing shades to differentiate themselves from one another, both an act of rebellion and a compulsion to stay alike. He let his hair off hair dyes now, letting it grow out a little to his neck and back to its natural color. Osamu does a lot of things different to Atsumu now.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“'Tsumu,” Suna says, suddenly sounding solemn, “I've never been here, you know. Never been on an actual plane without my family. And I don't know. I'm just a little scared I'd get lost the moment we step off the plane or that I would say something wrong to you guys' parents when they're being so kind to offer us your place to stay in.” He gasps softly. “Oh fuck. What if I accidentally offend someone and they'll beat me up to my death and leave me out on the street?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Atsumu cuts him off. “Suna! What the *hell* are ya talkin' about.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Suna sighs, his breath coming out shaky. “I'm just scared, okay.” He holds his hand out to lift the white food tray that opens up from the seat in front of him, sweeping all of his clutter away with just one brush of his hand. He wipes it down free of crumbs with a wet wipe from the pack that Sakusa had given him earlier. Eucalyptus scent,the way he likes it. “I'm scared of being the one to fuck it all up.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Atsumu looks down at his hand and wishes he could hold it, wishes he could intertwine their fingers together, wishes he could kiss his knuckles. Make him feel safe with his company, at the very least. “Yeah, I get that feeling.” He goes for a smile. “It's our first time to fly all the way out of Japan without our parents to book our flights for us. But look, it's going all so well, right?” He gestures vaguely toward the other passengers on the plane. “I know it will go well.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah.” Suna exhales once more, his breathing coming out slower and more even now. “I think I feel like I'm safe when I'm with you.” Then, corrects himself, “when I'm with you guys.” There's a small smile on his face and he has never looked this soft before. His voice trails off at the end, interrupted by the announcement voice-over.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“...We have just landed at Ninoy Aquino International Airport. Thank you for choosing Cebu Pacific, your airline of choice,” comes the announcement from the speaker just above their heads. It says the same spiel in Japanese, then in Cebuano. Suna sits up beside him. Atsumu's grateful for the sudden interruption. Otherwise, he would have done something crazy after looking at Suna's mouth.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>::</p>
<p> </p>
<p>In the span of just two weeks, Atsumu had somehow found himself flying all the way to the Philippines, a country that he has somehow not seen for at least a decade and a half, on a jam-packed commercial plane and now agreeing (read: being forced to agree) to being the designated driver for the road trip that they had planned over a video call on the Line app without consulting him and asking if he <em>wanted</em> to get out of the confinement of his home, and not just, like, lie down for hours on the cold hard tiles of his apartment until he has to force himself to get up and act like a functioning adult again.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Or even just ask for his week's schedule and check if he has plans. He does not, in fact, have any prior appointments or physical exams with their personal doctor, other than lounging around and eating all of the milk bread he bought fifty percent off before it goes stale, but it would have been good manners to ask. The trip would be for the twins' birthday celebration anyway, they said. It would be fun, they said. Get this, they had planned it all without even asking him just over a week ago and now he has to drive them all the way to wherever they would like to go. So much for a bit of consideration, so much for their joint birthday celebration outside of the country that they grew up in.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He had slept in that Sunday when they were conversing about going off to somewhere on their group chat and had woken up to no less than forty-eight calls from the three of them, the bulk of which had been from Osamu. Or, *Samsam* with the frowning devil face emoji on his contact. On the forty-ninth call, Atsumu finally answered the call, his mind still hazy with sleep as he waited for it to connect.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>That day, he had made himself a mug of coffee with milk and sugar stirred into it. Yawned into the palm of his vacant hand as he put his phone up to his ear to answer Osamu's call, his head still throbbing. “Yes, little brother,” he says in a sing-song voice, knowing all too well that Osamu would grimace and spout a string of swears at this. And he is, in fact, proven right when Osamu immediately argues that it was only a matter of seventeen seconds or so. “What the hell do you need so much that ya had to call me at—” He glances at the clock right above his refridgerator. “—six in the damned morning?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>In the background, Atsumu can hear the faraway sound of someone else stretching their arms behind Osamu. He imagines them draping their arms around Osamu's waist as he cooks, judging by the sound of feet shuffling and egg shells being cracked over the countertop. “Pack yer bags, dumbass. And fast. We're going out.” A short pause. “Three days from now.” Atsumu could hear the sound of Osamu reaching over for a whisk, or maybe something else made of steel.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What for, ya scrub?” Atsumu had said, although he already had his hand reached out toward the part of the cupboard where he kept his toiletries. The lemon-scented laundry detergent that Sakusa had told him to get because it smelled better and wasn't as sharp on the nose and he had actually gotten from the supermarket because, well, it wasn't like he wasn't already used to accommodating for his brother's boyfriend, and because it actually did smell so nice. It smelled so nice he couldn't stop bringing the inside of his shirts to his nose.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Atsumu heard the sharp crackle of something against what sounds like cast iron. He had thought that Osamu must be cooking something up on Ma's old cast iron skillet. “Just because we want to.” In the background, he had heard someone murmuring, “'Cause I told you so, other Miya. Now, go get your bags. We're going for a trip.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He did not reach for the detergent. Instead, he took out a whole box of fancy, nice-smelling body soap. A bottle of shower gel. Then, a little Mickey Mouse shaped bottle of shampoo that he had taken home with him the last time he stayed at the Disney Resort back in Hong Kong. He reached for the shaving kit that he had <em>also</em> taken home from some fancy hotel he, as well as the rest of the MSBY Black Jackals, had stayed at for a game all the way over to the other side of the country. Stuffed it all into an old Harajuku Dolls pouch that had been a gift on his seventh birthday sent all the way from America by his OFW auntie, Tita Michelle, who had never actually seen the twins in person and thought that they were <em>girls</em> because of their feminine-sounding last name, hence the matching pouches.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Atsumu could hear Osamu's low whine over the phone as someone else grabs the phone from him, presumably to tell Atsumu off for calling them at such an ungodly hour of the day. And then, and then, unsurprisingly, Sakusa's voice quickly replaced Osamu. He pressed the video call option and showed Atsumu around their apartment. Atsumu put his face closer to his phone and heard the shuffle of his feet as he trudges toward the coffee table, where two duffel bags, a foldable takeaway bag from Daiso Japan and a white toiletry pouch are all lined up. “See? Get your things and some of your clothes.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Okay, I got that part already.” Atsumu had sighed as he flashed his phone camera toward the bags filled with his essentials. He shoved a red tube of hair gel into his pouch, as well as a bottle of Listerine, the green kind, and a small bottle of efficascent oil. Muscle relief patches, too. His bottle of face toner, then a pack of hair ties. Then a fluffy Pompompurin headband to keep his <em>impeccably styled</em> hair up as he does his nightly skin care routine. You see, the necessities.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I thought I told you to just get the bare necessities.” Sakusa hadn't, actually, but Atsumu wasn't about to argue with him. Osamu butted in and said,“Hurry your fat ass up. How do ya think yer going to fit all that shit you're going to bring in the—” Sakusa cut him off and put the phone up to his mouth and said, “Just come with us, okay. Osamu says it will be fun.” Sakusa looks back at Osamu, then at Atsumu. A slow smile forms on the corners of his lips as he puts a finger to the end call button. “And Suna will be there, anyway.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What does this have to do with Suna and—” The line cut off. He had dropped the call. Atsumu groans and resumed cooking eggs and <em>natto</em> for breakfast. He'd have a chicken breast later. And oh, fuck the coffee. He swung the door of his refridgerator open and saw that he did not actually have any alcohol in it. Instead, he took a swig ofstraight from the large bottle of lemonade on the side of his fridge.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The lemonade kinda (really) tasted like shit because of something it had been mixed with, but it was a gift from Bokkun, and it seemed like it would be expensive as hell if he bought it on his own, so he drank it anyways. It seemed like the milk or Yakult or whatever it was had overpowered the tart, tangy flavor of the lemons in the mixture, but it tasted good toward the end. He ended up drinking it all throughout the day as he filled his bags with food he knew all too well that he and Osamu would finish off in less than three days.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>::</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Ah, there it is. The blistering heat that comes with finally stepping outside the air-conditioned bubble of an airplane. It greets them almost immediately as they drag the wheels of their luggages along as they walk the long way outside the airport and follows them until they're sitting in the comforts of their <em>lolas</em>' home in Imus, Cavite.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Atsumu wipes the sweat off his forehead once he drops them off at the doorstep and knocks on the wooden door. A little kid, dressed in a threadbare Sofia the First pajama set that cuts off near her ankles and looks like she had worn it nearly every single day of the past year, rushes toward the living room and calls out, “<em>Lola Mommy, Lola Nanay, may bisita po tayo</em>!” A thick red and white Hello Kitty comforter that's draped like a cape over her shoulders follow her as she pads across the house. “<em>Lola Mommy, hanap po kayo nila!</em>”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh, <em>apo</em>,” Lola Mommy says as she opens the door, “<em>sino 'tong dala-dala niyo ni</em> Osamu? “<em>Nako, ang layo pa ng pinunta niyo</em>.” (You travelled so far just to come here.) Lola Nanay follows right after, sauntering toward them with a gait, bowing to her chest to greet them. “'Tsumu, 'Samu, who are they?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p><em>Who are these people that you have brought all the way here?</em> It begs the question, “What do these people mean to you?” Atsumu feels his mouth go dry. “Lola Mommy, <em>mano po</em>,” he manages to stammer out, holding a hand out for her to take. Then toward Lola Nanay. “<em>Mano po</em>, it's been a while since we last came here.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Osamu does the same as he walks inside after Atsumu comes in. Atsumu ushers Sakusa and Suna inside after they slip their shoes off at the bright pink welcome mat. “Lola Mommy, Lola Nanay, I would like to introduce you to my friends Kiyoomi and Rintarou.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Atsumu continues the stream of thought for him. “We already told you about Omi-kun— <em>ay, </em>I mean, his name is Sakusa <em>po</em>. We told you about Sakusa <em>na</em>, right? He's Samsam's boyfriend, 'My.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The <em>lola</em>s immediately pay undivided attention to one visitor each. Lola Nanay faces Suna, then Lola Mommy to Sakusa. “Now, look who's here! Who's this beautiful boy right here, hmm? Is he the Rintarou boy you told me about?” Lola Nanay looks right around and quirks an eyebrow up at Atsumu, who smiles awkwardly and averts his gaze. “How come you guys never introduced me to such a good-looking boy? <em>Hay nako, mga apo</em>, I can't believe you're telling me this just now. Who is he with, hmm?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Atsumu laughs at this. “Sunarin isn't dating anyone at the moment, 'Nay.” At this, Lola Nanay looks at the two of them in astonishment.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“<em>Nako</em>, why didn't you tell me?” Lola Nanay presses his hand to her forehead. “I think the best way to solve is this is for the two of you to date each other <em>na lang</em>.” (Date each other instead.) Atsumu flushes a little at the suggestion. Suna looks down at his foot socks. Lola Nanay smiles and lets Lola Mommy steer the conversation. She's never been much of a talker, although she often dotes on her grandchildren whenever they come home, because they rarely do.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh, <em>anak</em>,” Lola Mommy flashes Sakusa a warm smile. Her face lights up in recognition as she looks at Sakusa and takes in more of his features. “Oh, I think I recognize you <em>na</em>, honey.” She laughs softly. “Our Samsam always sends us photos of the two of you whenever you go out for dates.” She fishes her phone out of her purse to show Sakusa the pictures she had saved to a gallery titled <em>our samu and his bf together forever</em>.Sakusa looks politely.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Inside the promptly-titled gallery, there are around three hundred photos of Osamu and Sakusa together, an entire slideshow of them. Photos of Osamu and Sakusa standing in front of the Hyogo Branch on its grand opening, just after Osamu had gotten his degree from university. Grainier photos of Sakusa as he moves the phone camera away from his face. Osamu in motion, laughing and laughing and laughing in the photos Sakusa took of him. Photos of Sakusa sitting up straight on a seat that Osamu had reserved for his use in one dimly-lit corner of Onigiri Miya. Photos of Osamu cooking. Photos that none of them even remember taking. Osamu, always smiling.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Atsumu watches Sakusa shift a little in his position, and just by seeing him, he knows he's close to crying. He is, too, just from looking at the photos and seeing how happy Osamu is when he's with him. He's always with him, cooking in his apartment or taking him out to a picnic or watching Ghibli films with him. “Lola Mommy...” Atsumu watches as Sakusa hesitates before holding his hand out to do <em>mano</em> to his and Osamu's lola, until she laughs and says, “It's okay, honey. There's no need to do it *naman* if you aren't comfortable.” She looks at Osamu and smiles, her eyes crinkling in a similar way to his twin. “Our Samsam already told us a lot about you.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sakusa, looking the most flustered Atsumu has ever seen him, bows to his chest instead, his cheeks flushed pink with a mixture of pride and embarrassment. He looks at Osamu and blushes even more. It's almost like they're alone in this house. It's almost like they're alone in this world. “I am so happy to finally meet you, Lola Mommy.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I'm so pleased to meet the boy that is making our Samsam smile so much these past few years.” Lola Mommy smiles at him, looking almost wistful. “You know, he wasn't always as happy as 'Tsumu.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Atsumu watches as Sakusa remains quiet, peaceful. Suna hangs his head in awe as he listen to what Lola Mommy is saying about them. “Samsam wasn't always as bright and smiley like he is now because of you. He used to be so—” She gestures with her fingers. “He used to be, you know, a little burdened with the feeling of having to get Tsumtsum out of trouble when he was a kid.” Osamu snickers.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She looks at Atsumu before continuing with the tale. “<em>Hay nako</em>, Tsumtsum,” she says, shaking her head at him. It feels like she had been directing a lot of her <em>hay nako</em>'s toward him today. “<em>Anak</em>, if only you knew about what Tsumtsum was up to in kindergarten!”Atsumu cringes a little at this, and Osamu laughs a lot beside him. “His mommy had to be called to the classroom by their teacher because he wet his pants and didn't want the teacher to change him.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It's Lola Nanay's turn to share anecdotes about the twins. “Our Samsam is doing well with his business all the way in Hyogo, isn't he?We were so proud of him. We even asked Gracelynn from the house across from us to help make our own Instagram profiles so we could see our Samsam's posts on his business account.” She smiles, soft and warm. “He really is your lolo's child. I'm glad that he took after his <em>lolo</em>, his birth father, instead of me. I've never been good at numbers or anything related to business. We were so, so happy.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“And Atsumu, <em>nako</em>, <em>halos maiyak kami </em>when he messaged us about the news that he would be going to a Division 1 team.” Lola Mommy shakes her head, happy happy happy. She tells them more about how they almost filled the house up in tears with every little thing Atsumu has achieved throughout the years. Atsumu, in spite of himself, feels his heart soften. “I'm so happy to see him like this.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“<em>Anak</em>, I hope you marry our Samsam one day when you're stable and old enough to go steady.” Lola Nanay smiles with tears in her eyes. “He makes you so happy. I can only hope he's making you just as happy as you make him. You deserve the world, <em>mga</em> <em>anak</em>.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“<em>Opo</em>, <em>Nay</em>.” Osamu snakes his hand around Sakusa's waist, his mouth slanted into a smile. His whole face brightens as their <em>lola</em> makes a fuss over Sakusa and tells him how handsome he is in person, even more handsome than the photos Osamu had shown them. They ask him to visit them more. His heart swells with happiness. Atsumu knows this, in the way his eyes crinkle as he looks at him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>In his periphery, Atsumu sees Suna look away from the couple. He sees the way he twirls his hair with his finger as he averts his gaze. Atsumu feels a sudden surge of bravery and puts his arm around his shoulders. He does not shrug him away. Instead, he leans into the touch. Lola Mommy doesn't say anything but when she flashes them a glance, there's a glint. Lola Nanay gives them a knowing smile.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Lola Mommy faces Suna now. Lola Nanay to Sakusa. “Oh, <em>anak</em>, you're on a V. League team, right? With Kiyoomi's cousin, no less.” She smiles. “Our family's interconnected <em>pala</em>, <em>noh?</em>” Atsumu can feel a lump building up in his throat. Our family. Just like that, they have already claimed their friends of all time as members of the family. “How are you getting along with Kiyoomi and his cousin?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Suna twists his lips into a smile, his fingers fiddling with the paper bag he's holding in both of his hands. “We're getting along well. Me and Komori. He's a great friend and teammate, Lola Mommy.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh, and you're on the same team as Tsumtsum, right?” Lola Nanay asks Sakusa. “He told me a lot about you. And that little kid named Shou-kun. <em>Hay nako</em>,  how are you putting up with this child, then? Is he bothering you at practice? Tell me, <em>ha</em>, so I can tell him off.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“'My *naman*, don't embarrass me in front of our visitors,” Atsumu whines, making a fake-crying noise at the same time as Osamu says, “'My, you know how <em>makulit</em> 'Tsumu can be. Omi's used to it na.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Lola Nanay holds Lola Mommy's hand in hers. She shows Sakusa a framed photo of the twins during their first spring in Japan, dressed in matching jumpers and striped shirts. They were sitting on matching black and gray strollers too, pulled along by their parents, looking up at the sakuras in full bloom. “They were such sweet kids.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sakusa smiles at Lola Nanay, who's looking at him like he holds all of the stars in the sky. He looks at Osamu and his smile grows even wider. Suna looks at the photo over her shoulder, then smirks at Atsumu. “How come you don't look like this anymore, 'Tsumu?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Atsumu feels his heart skip a beat at the nickname. He feels the sudden heat spread across his face as he looks at Suna. He shrugs it off, then plans to tackle Suna to the ground once their lolas leave.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>::</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Atsumu's sitting on the three-seater couch beside Sakusa and Osamu who are cradling a thick pink photo album between their legs like it could be the Holy Grail. Sakusa points at a photo of Osamu in the playground, the bright hot sun setting around him. Pale orange light dawning on his features as he smiles. Osamu looks at him, lovesick.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Atsumu does not have time for this. He pulls Suna, who had offered to stand this whole time and give leeway to them to sit down, to his lap, holding him down with his arms wrapped around his waist until he's just sitting in the space between his spread-out thighs. “Oi,” he says, “don't make a fuss 'bout this.” He tucks the sharp of his chin in the crook between Suna's neck and shoulder. “Stop moving, okay?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Atsumu feels hear creep up on Suna's neck as he holds him tight. He runs his hand right down the course of Suna's forearm, down to his wrist, dow to the knuckles of his long, nimble fingers. “Hmm,” he hums, low against his skin, “do ya think this is awkward for us?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Suna takes it in himself to laugh. “Uh, yeah, actually. But we have slept together before so it's like. We don't need to be embarrassed.” He moves against Atsumu's lap. “There's nothing we haven't seen.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah, I guess.” Atsumu sighs against his shoulder. “I just wanted to check if you were comfortable with doing this and all. And I didn't want ya to stand all afternoon or something.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Suna shrugs. “I think,” he says. “I think it's nice we finally got to spend some time together without doing God knows what, y'know.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah, I'm glad.” Atsumu looks at the framed photo on the wall. It's a cross-stitched image of The Last Supper, passed down from generation to generation. It had been hand-sewn by one of their lola's lola's lola. It was then passed down to Lola Nanay's lola, who had passed it down then to Lola Nanay, who had no qualms about passing it down to Osamu the moment he gets married to Sakusa. It was almost like saying, this love is passed down from generation to generation. Saying our love is passed down from family to family.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I didn't know that your <em>lolas</em>—” Suna gestures wildly with his fingers— “would be so accepting of all of us. You know how <em>kaa-chan</em> reacted when Osamu broke the news about him and Sakusa.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“<em>Ewan</em>, maybe <em>lola</em> is a lot more liberated because.” Atsumu stops to ponder about it. “I don't know why, but they're just a lot more accepting of us, of the community. Maybe it's because they can see a little bit of themselves in us or something because, you know, they're lesbians.” He smiles. “They used to be best friends, then they had children with the men their parents wanted them to marry. It didn't work out when they tried living with them for, like, a few months so they opted out and pretty much ran away. In short, <em>nag-tanan sila</em> and look at them now, look how happy they are.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Suna looks at him, his eyes going bright. “And then what?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“<em>Alam mo</em>,” Atsumu says, then immediately corrects himself. “You know, Lola Mommy and Lola Nanay were always ostracized and given strange looks ever since they started officially living together. In this house.” He taps a foot against the floor. “But they went on with it because they loved each other enough, they loved each other more than anyone else in the world.” Suna puts a hand to his chest, touched. “I think their love for each other mattered more than what other people thought of them. That's why they went on with it even though it felt like the whole word was against them.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“God, I'm so happy for them.” Suna looks so happy he could burst. “It's like, it's almost like love was like their lifeline.” They're both looking at Osamu and Sakusa now, who are wrapped in their own bubble safely tucked away from the rest of the world.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Atsumu nods in agreement, ghosting his lips over Suna's shoulder.“Yeah. Yer right, ya know.” He breathes out, heavy, warm. “It's what kept this family up and running, it's what keeps us running until now.” He smiles against the collar of Suna's shirt. “It's like they just knew back then that love is what's keepin' the world turning.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Atsumu threads his fingers through the belt loops of Suna's jeans, pulling him even closer to him. He knows Osamu and Sakusa could be watching them right now. He doesn't care. He kisses Suna's neck,his weak, weak mind blown drowsy and light-headed with the overwhelming feeling of wanting. He goes to sleep with the recurring dream of Suna kissing him until he pulls away dry, until he comes away breathless that night. He falls asleep with Suna next to him, the whole world coming down to rest on his sun-browned shoulders.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>::</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Atsumu steps outside their family home, having just finished doing his morning stretches and having just brushed his teeth in front of the bathroom mirror. He pulls on something decent before he leaves and slips on the only pair of shoes he brought to their trip. It was a black pair of platform Pumas, its laces not turned off-white by use and its criss-cross soles not worn out like any of his other shoes.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Get in, loser, we're going shopping.” Atsumu does not ask why Suna is patting the side of Atsumu's mom's car, with the tinted windows rolled almost all the way down, and telling him to hop in like he owned it. Like he was Regina George from Mean Girls, but maybe if she was not a blonde high-school chick and was a black-haired, baritone-voiced, expressionless Japanese man who did not know what the difference between gingham and plaid was or the textile dissonance between wearing polyester versus poly-blend.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Atsumu does not know the difference either, so he does not question it. He rolls the windows up. He slots himself into the driver's seat like two meters away from Suna and tinkers with Suna's phone, which is attached to a pod near the headboard. He presses the Waze app, prepared to type in the directions. As if using Waze is part of his muscle memory, as if he actually knows how to use it, as if he hadn't depended on his own gut instinct when driving across the sprawling roads of Osaka these past few years. “Okay.” He looks at Suna, then at Sakusa and Osamu who are crammed into the backseat, absolutely zero meters apart. “So where are we headed to?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Didn't he just tell ya we're goin' shopping,” Osamu snarks as he leans in even closer toward Sakusa, which Atsumu had thought was almost impossible from the way their legs were positioned atop one another. Atsumu crinkles his nose a little at the way they are pretty much sitting on each other's laps at this point. “Ya took so long to get ready that ya don't know where we're goin'. Shaddap and drive.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Why are ya being so <em>masungit</em>, little brother?” Atsumu rolls his eyes before he steers the wheel and steps on the gas. “I'll run you over. Yer turnin' into a prickly little sea urchin just like Omi-kun, I tell ya. Better get out an' run away while you still 'ave the chance.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>::</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Atsumu stuffs his hands into his pockets, his feet shuffling beside Suna who's tap-tap-tapping on his phone and making good use of the mall's free public WiFi, as Osamu takes Sakusa's hand in his and makes a bee-line for the Uniqlo store across from them. “Wanna go in? I've been lookin' for some new foot socks lately.” That's a lie, of course, several clothing stores from across Japan have been tripping over their own feet to send him their merchandise, but it wasn't like he was going to leave Suna alone inside of a mall he wasn't used to.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Suna merely shrugs beside him, kicking at an invisible rock on the ground, and steps inside the Uniqlo. He wipes at the sweat forming on his forehead with the back of his hand. “Wow, it's cold here,” he remarks. He looks back at Atsumu who's three steps behind him. “Come on, slowpoke. Aren't you the one looking for new socks?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Didn't wanna be seen with the couple right there.” Atsumu rolls his eyes at Osamu, who's already picking out several pairs of all-black clothes for Sakusa, who's looking at them intensely with his face all scrunched up. “People might think that we're related or something.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You have the same face as Osamu, you idiot.” Suna looks off into the distance and watches wistfully as Osamu grins at Sakusa, his gray eyes twinkling as he looks at Sakusa, who's stepped into one of the ensembles he picked out earlier. “Don't you think that they look, like, so happy together? Must be nice to have something like them.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah.” Atsumu feels his heart swell with pride as he watches his brother smile in a way he's never seen before. “Must be really nice.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Atsumu watches as Osamu tugs at the fabric of a camel-colored coat on a rack, his fingers running across its softness. He says, head tilted to the right like a lost puppy, “Look at this, babe, oh.” <em>Pa-cute</em>, Atsumu thinks. He would very much like for Osamu to stop acting cute toward his own boyfriend. “Do ya think this material would look good on me?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It looks great. Check it out in the dressing room before you get it.” Atsumu watches as Sakusa nods in agreement, holding his hand up in a thumbs-up. “It's on sale, I think,” he says. “You should go get it for you to wear during the winter.” Atsumu watches as Osamu tosses it into the basket immediately. Then a similar one for Sakusa.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Atsumu lets out a low whistle. Osamu and Sakusa are not exactly buying cheap things for themselves. He watches as Osamu runs his fingers across Sakusa's hand as they both reach for the basket. They are not exactly being discreet about their affection in such a public place, either. “<em>Sana all</em>,” he remarks to no one in particular. <em>I hope to have the same in the future</em>. And he does. He really does.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Suna overhears what he thought he had whispered low enough under his breath, and asks, “<em>Sana all?</em> What does that mean?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Nothing,” Atsumu says with a sigh. That's a lie. “It doesn't matter.” He reaches for a pair of blue foot socks. Then, when Suna pries further, he explains, “It means somethin' like 'I wanna have the same.'”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You want a coat too?” Suna asks, confused. He crosses his arms across his chest. “Didn't the Jackals just receive the winter coats that Gap sent over from their new winter collection?” Sighs, then adds, “I sure wish our own sponsors would be as generous as yours so I don't have to keep shelling out for new things from my salary.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Atsumu eases into a laugh as a passing thought about buying Suna everything he wanted with the bulk of his monthly paycheck. <em>No</em>, he thinks, <em>I want to have you like they have each other</em>. Instead, he shrugs and says, “There's just somethin' about 'em that seems so comfortable. They seem so comfortable with each other, almost like, ya know, they're at home with each other,” and leaves it at that.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Suna purses his lips as he looks over at the two of them. “Yeah.” He smiles, only one of many smiles he's flashed today, but it only ever hits Atsumu harder than the last. “They really embody the <em>sana all</em> thing that you're telling me about.” Laughs. “Did I say it right?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The corners of Atsumu's mouth tug into a smile. “Yeah.” Then, he overhears a flock of teenaged girls, giggling into their spread-out hands and trying to be discreet about their whispers about the <em>really</em> handsome <em>foreigners</em> near the coat and polo shirt stalls. One of them beckons the others to check them out and whispers that they might be together. Atsumu watches as Osamu's head only grows bigger at this rather than getting annoyed at their speculations.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“<em>Ang pogi mo daw</em>, babe,” Osamu says in straight Tagalog. They watch as the small group of girls scurry away and hide themselves in the stalls, red-faced. Then, he dips his head closer to Sakusa's ear and says, in low Japanese, “They said that you're really handsome.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“<em>Hay nako</em>, they are being so <em>malandi</em> today,” Atsumu remarks to Suna. “And they're being so touchy-feely in a public place, too.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Suna laughs then, the sound coming out like a slow-forming and slow-setting sunshine, lazy and sweet to Atsumu's ears. “But you said they were <em>sana all,</em> right? Don't you want the same?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Nah.” And that's a lie, again. “They're being too much.” Atsumu wonders how he had gotten so good at lying about his own feelings. Then again, how long had it been since he was honest to himself?</p>
<p> </p>
<p>::</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Atsumu smiles. “I think some people overestimated just how cold it would be here.” He does not flinch even when Sakusa glares at him, looking like he could kill him. “And here I thought ya would be more careful about the climate, Omi-kun.” Sakusa would kill him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Baby,” Osamu says with a soft sigh, “I think you should 'ave brought clothes that are, well, more suited for warmer locations, ya know. It's <em>way</em> hotter here in the Philippines than you're used to.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You know I don't like wearing those kind of clothes.” Sakusa pouts a little, folding away his navy blue satin pajama set. “But it's okay.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Just sleep naked like the rest of us,” Atsumu butts in. Then, when Osamu glares at him and Sakusa looks at him with a scrounged-up face and a crinkled nose, a horrified expression that tells him to just shut his mouth before he runs into the bathroom and drapes his head over the toilet, he sighs and says, “I kid, I kid. We don't do that here.” He whispers, looking directly at Osamu, “Not anymore.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Osamu decides to ignore any of Atsumu,'s remarks allowing him to help himself to little else but a glare and a <em>Fuck off</em> muttered under his breath, and turns to Sakusa again in a futile attempt to remedy the ongoing situation. “'S okay. You can borrow some of mine.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Osamu rummages through his duffel bag and picks out an acceptable enough outfit for Sakusa, consisting of a plain white v-neck shirt and a pair of blue plaid boxers. He tosses a pair of“See? I told ya you can wear clothes that are decent <em>naman</em> but are still suited for the climate.” For himself, he picks out a similarly-colored pair of boxers and a <em>sando</em> with the phrase “I went swimming with the whale sharks!” across the front, which had been a gift from their relatives, Tito Joy and Tita Marie, who often posted travel photos on their joint Facebook profile and had actually been the ones to go swimming with the said whale sharks somewhere in Oslob, Cebu. Sakusa smiles fondly, if only the smallest hint of a smile, at this.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Atsumu does not miss the way Sakusa's cheeks tinge red at the way the undershirt fits just a little tighter around the course of Osamu's chest and shoulders from more than two years of owning it. Atsumu scoffs at his and murmurs something about how thirsty he's being.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Suna faces Atsumu with his arms crossed. “How come nobody told me that we were supposed to wear, like, an undershirt and shorts?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Atsumu turns up an eyebrow at Suna who now has his arms crossed over his chest and is looking at him expectantly. He does not pay attention to this, and instead acts like a bitch like he typically does. He runs his mouth and says, “<em>Mainit dito</em>. Weren't you informed?” (It's hot here. Weren't you informed?)</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I wasn't able to check the weather.” Suna sighs. “I'm sorry, okay.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Atsumu takes the chance to gloat, although really, in any other circumstance, he would like to kiss the pout off Suna's face. Instead, he rubs white salt deeper into the open wound. “<em>Tanga ka kasi</em>.” ('Cause yer an idiot.)</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Osamu swats at Atsumu's arm. “Don't call Sunarin that. Stop calling him stupid like you aren't the absolute same, ya dimwit.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It's not my fault you didn't tell him before he came here.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Just let Sunarin borrow some of your clothes,” Osamu says. Then adds, just for good measure, looking directly at Atsumu, “<em>tanga</em>.” (Stupid.)</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sakusa grimaces. “You're really twins, and this just proves it.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh, you love me so much more, baby,” Osamu says. This sounds like another one of their extremely sexually-charged moments and Atsumu would very much like to at least exclude himself from the narrative before they start eye-fucking each other in the room.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>::</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Atsumu is not lucky enough to escape the little bedroom antics of the couple who are not yet married but already acted like they were. Having not worn his gold-rimmed and thick-lensed eyeglasses, he had rendered himself practically blind. On the way to the bathroom, he stumbles into a doorknob, stubs his toe against the table and sees a room that looks almost suspiciously a lot like the bathroom. It is not, in fact, their actual bathroom and he learns this the hard way.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Atsumu bursts into Osamu and Sakusa's shared bedroom, finding Sakusa straddling Osamu with Osamu's back flat against the mattress. Sakusa looks up, looking a lot like a deer caught in headlights. “Fuck! What the fuck, <em>gago!</em>” Atsumu had never said more curse words in his whole life, making a whole scene of what happened, but in shushed whispers not to wake the whole family up. “What the fuck is wrong with you two? Do ya not have any sense of modesty anymore? And I thought this would be a family-friendly trip.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yer saying that like I didn't catch you with your hands down Suna's pants back in-” Atsumu shuts the door. He would not like to think about him and Suna shoving their hands down each other's pants when he would be with him in the entire duration of their trip.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>::</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Atsumu is not spared from Suna Rintarou that night. The world is not ready, he tries to protest. He looks off outside the window to the blanket of clouds in the sky and prays to a nameless god. The said nameless god either laughs down at him or joins him in his self pity. He does not know which one of that would be worse, so he nudges himself into the little space that Suna lets him have beside him. He does not inch closer toward him. He does not seek warmth. He does not steal the blankets. He lets himself lie on what little comfort their shared mattress gives him, even with the Pompompurin headband tugged through his hair and Suna's fan-given Minnie Mouse Ufufy plushie between them and all. He does not let himself come closer.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>::</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Having woken up much earlier than any of them, even Sakusa who has always been a rickety old man crammed into an athlete's body who makes himself mushroom omelettes and drinks fancy tea (and not just the Lipton kind) and gets up earlier than most to get his jogging and stretching in, Osamu comes up the stairs, his feet padding against the creaky old staircase. He does this with much regard for whoever might still be asleep. Lola Mommy and Lola Nanay is sleeping in the room with the little kid from yesterday, whom Atsumu remembers is called Potpot, because she cannot sleep in her own because of something like the monster under the bed. Atsumu distantly remembers that he had been just like her in his childhood, but instead of any metaphorical monster, it had been his brother.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Osamu flings both of their bedroom doors open, with little regard of what creature might be waiting for him on the other side. Atsumu is more than a little horrified at this. “Whaddaya want, ya little shit?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“We—” Osamu gestures to all of them. “—are going out today.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>From this, Suna stirs in his sleep beside him, pulling up the sheets to cover his (Atsumu's) boxers. He rubs sleep out of his eyes with the back of his hand. Atsumu would like to say that he looks like shit in the morning, but Suna doesn't and Atsumu is not a liar. If Atsumu were to be honest with himself for the first time this week, he would say that he even looked *pretty* like this, sleep-soft and half-lidded.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“We are <em>not</em> going to church,” Sakusa, beside Osamu, protests immediately, his (Osamu's) rumpled shirt tugged almost halfway up his waist after doing God knows what yesterday. Atsumu would not like to think about what they did, so he looks away from Sakusa.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Atsumu pulls away the Pompompurin headband from his forehead and looks down at it. Only belatedly does he realize that it is a dog, albeit an extremely chubby and pudding-paletted and brown beret-wearing one. He looks a little worse for wear. He puts the back of his palm to his temple and it comes away damp with sweat.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Osamu looks over at Atsumu. Then, he flashes him a wide grin that Atsumu has known all too well. It's one that's made for shit eating, the exact same one Atsumu had been born with. “Get up, ya scrub.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>::</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Osamu and Sakusa help Lola Mommy make breakfast for the four of them, because in spite of claiming to be functioning adults, the rest of them do not actually know how to turn on the Hanabishi rice cooker. Or the kettle. Or the non-stick pan. Or anything else, actually. Osamu makes the eggs and the rice and canned tuna, almost habitually, like his hands are made just for making food. Passingly, Atsumu wonders what his hands are made for. Sakusa is, just like anything else he does, methodically chopping the button mushrooms.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Atsumu is sitting uselessly on the stairs, exiled from the kitchen because he does not, in fact, know how to cook anything except eggs, but only sunny side up and not omelette style, and instant ramen. Beside him, Suna leans in to whisper, “What are they making?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Atsumu shrugs and whispers back, “I don't know. Better hope thatSakusa's cooking tastes good. I don't trust him not to poison us.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Suna scoffs, saying, “Pray for yourself.” Although when Atsumu looks down, he sees that Suna's hands are clasped over each other.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Atsumu opens the Panasonic fridge and takes out the pitcher of water to serve them several glasses and to make himself useful. Beside him, Suna gets up from his seat and tries to operate the kettle which makes a great whistling sound. Suna startle at this, but fortunately enough, he succeeds in boiling hot water to use for their coffee. They come in Nescafe 3-in-1 sachets and they taste a little like the coffee he has at home. Maybe even better than all of the fancy coffee he had in his life.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Osamu's canned tuna and rice meal turn out a little like the tuna mayo onigiri he makes back home. Sakusa's mushroom omelettes turn out okay, albeit a little bland and salt-speckled. Osamu looks at Sakusa and smiles so lovingly that Atsumu wants him to choke on his food. Suna clasps his hands and proclaims, “<em>Itadakimasu!</em>”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>::</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Frankly, Atsumu thinks that he wouldn’t mind being in the same car as his twin brother for just slightly over an hour as he drives all the way outside of their family home to the other side of the country that he hasn't even been to since he was four years old and had only learned how to walk. Although 'to the other side of the country' was pushing it. It would be a one hour and fifteen minute drive at most.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>However, when he ponders about it a little more, he thinks that they would not last more than ten minutes before they choke each other out against the compartment of the car that he is driving. He imagines his own head pressed against the steering wheel with Osamu’s sleeves rolled up his forearms. He wouldn’t let it go to that, even if it’s just for the sake of his pride and not to deter his twin brother’s plans of killing him. He couldn't have possibly cared less if he tried to kill him inside his car. That would have sounded a cool way to die.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Throw into the mix: his twin brother’s prickly sea urchin of a boyfriend for four years and the boy he’s had a crush on ever since he started seeing him in a different light all the way back in their third year of high school who is also the boy he’s been having an on-off fling for just as long, and you’ve got a recipe for disaster.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Beside him, Osamu looks at him. Atsumu knows by the look in his eye that he is about to say something absolutely saccharine. He does not gesture weirdly or make a face at Osamu, he does not put his hand down his throat because he knows that they are already functioning adults. “They're getting so well, don't ya think?” he muses, his chin propped up against his hand as he looks back at the two boys sitting in the backseat. He sets down the can of Dole pineapple juice that he was drinking from earlier.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Atsumu hums in agreement. He looks only at Suna, who is tap-tap-tapping on his phone, his fingers gliding over the keyboard in a memorized rhythm. He lifts his phone to show Sakusa whatever he is watching, to which Sakusa nods and shows him something of the same kind. “Yeah, if you can call both of them starin' at their phones the whole time and showin' each other cat videos every once in a while <em>bonding</em>, then yeah, I think they're getting along really well.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>::</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Osamu asks him to stop over at Colette's Special Buko Pie, a quaint little bakeshop situated in the middle of nowhere. He climbs out of the car and immediately returns, holding two boxes in his hands. He is given a scrutinizing look by Sakusa, who gingerly takes one buko pie box in his hand. Suna sits up straight and stops picking lint off his black sweatpants with a borrowed lint roller from Sakusa. It's almost the size of his head, forehead to chin, and Sakusa brought two more of the same brand. Talk about overkill. Atsumu watches them all as the song on the radio switches from a pop song to another.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Atsumu drives them over to somewhere with a pretty, sun-striped view of the sky and the ocean and not much else. All of them climb out of the car now, a picnic blanket and a blue ice cooler in tow. He holds his backpack in one hand, filled to the brim with snacks that Lola Mommy had given him before going out. She had entrusted it to him and not Osamu, and that act of delegation made him gloat for hours about it to Osamu, who'd only smacked him upside the head.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Suna takes control of their music. None of them protest. A pop song that Atsumu vaguely recognizes plays on his phone, but in a strange chopped and screwed version that does not do wonders to the artist's crisp, summery voice. It only makes him sound bad, but Atsumu wasn't about to protest about someone else's niche tastes for music.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Instead, he watches as Sakusa opens one box to reveal a soft, brown baked coconut pie with a flaky, sugar-freckled crust. “That's buko pie, darling,” Osamu says the obvious, taking out a fork and scooping out a small slab for Sakusa. “You eat it like this.” Osamu puts the fork into Sakusa's mouth, feeding him like a small child.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Are ya seein' what I'm seeing?” Atsumu cringes at his twin's public display of affection. Suna shrugs at him, his eyes flickering down to the unused paper plates. Atsumu looks away from them the moment Sakusa leans into Osamu's touch, like it was the most natural thing for him to do. Instead, he turns to face Suna and offers him a generous slice of buko pie, held between his fingers in a piece of tissue.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Suna studies it, looking at its pearly white filling and taking careful looks at it in all the possible angles you could look at a food before taking it into his hands and biting off only a small portion. To taste. Atsumu watches as he chews and swallows down the coconut flesh, his Adam's apple moving up and down with every little movement. He could feel his mouth going dry as he takes a bite of his own pie.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Osamu wipes his mouth with the back of his palm. Sakusa dabs at the corner of his own mouth with a folded napkin. Atsumu and Suna stay quiet beside each other, like they're alienated, like they're living in their own space. Atsumu breaks the silence to ask, “Don't ya ever feel like yer intruding on them? Don't ya feel like yer bein' cast out or something?“ He sighs as he watches them move. “I know I do.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Suna hums in agreement. “Yeah, I guess.” He looks off into the faraway distance, but his eyes are not trained on the sun. His eyes are not trained on Osamu and Sakusa, either. He's looking at something that seems so distant that his eyes turn bright, almost warm. “You know, there's always something about that awkward feeling settling in my gut whenever I look at them.” He traces the veins of Atsumu's hand as he speaks. “You know that really weird feeling of not knowing what to do or how to act when you're around them, because you don't even know if you're happy or jealous of what they have or...” His voice trails off.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Atsumu picks the conversation back up, pinching at an ant that has climbed up his calf after sitting on the picnic blanket for too long. A moment passes before he speaks. “Ya know, I dunno if I could even pull off something like what they have.” He tilts a can of pineapple juice toward his mouth to take a slow sip. “It's almost like they have so much trust in each other. Love is fuckin' complicated but—”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Love isn't easy, huh.” Suna's smiling a little. “Love isn't easy and it isn't always supposed to be too easy, but they make it look so easy.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah. They make it so easy for each other.” Atsumu watches as Osamu hold his thumb out to the dimple near Sakusa's cheek and wipe the fleck of sugar from the corner of his mouth.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Suna is looking at Atsumu. Atsumu takes another sip of his pineapple juice. It tastes like sunshine. It tastes a little bitter, if hopeful.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>::</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Osamu sets his gaze on a storefront that’s brandished with a black banner with text in a gaudy shade of red that promotes All You Can Eat Samgyeopsal for only two hundred and ninety nine pesos. Hums in a moment of consideration, then mutters probably inaccurate calculations of the current conversion of peso to yen under his breath. Points at it and says just before Atsumu drives past it, “‘Tsumu. We gotta eat there, <em>oh</em>. <em>Ang tagal na</em> since we last had <em>yakiniku</em>.” (It's been so long since we last had yakiniku.)</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It really has been a long time since they ate cooked meat, especially with one another. Atsumu has been practically starving himself with this chicken breast and boiled eggs diet for several months now. He knows, but would never outright admit that Osamu is just a little happier with his food options. He could make himself onigiri back at home with the leftover ingredients from his store. Ochazuke, too, the kind that Sakusa likes, topped with umeboshi. All five star meals to feed the boy that Osamu has always been head over heels in love with.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sakusa has his head propped up against a pink heart-shaped Disney Princess pillow, leaning against the window. Suna is leaning against Sakusa's shoulder in the backseat, smiling contently, stomach still full with buko pie. A singular grain of sugar is stuck to the corner of his mouth. There's something in his expression that makes Atsumu's heart skip a beat, something that makes him want to wake up next to him and see him smile like that every morning. “<em>Pero</em> that's <em>samgyeopsal</em>, right?” He gestures to the sign to Osamu. “I think that's different from <em>yakiniku</em>.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It has meat,” Osamu reasons out. “They're both just barbecues.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Atsumu goes for a different approach. “Aren't we going to be <em>lugi</em> because of how much you eat? If it only costs three hundred pesos, then it would probably charge extra for every bowl of rice.” Sakusa nods in a rare show of vague agreement for his arguments. “In essence, we're going to be spending a lot more if we do decide to eat there <em>kasi</em> you eat a lot of rice and cheese <em>eh</em>.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Atsumu looks at him. Then at Sakusa, who’s sitting in the backseat staring off into the distance, his right cheek only hovering over the window, never letting it touch. “And we just finished eating and now yer asking for dinner already. How come yer always hungry?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Suna stirs in his sleep from the volume they are having their conversaion in, but does not pull away from Sakusa's shoulder. Sakusa scowls at Atsumu. Osamu gets his way, as always. Atsumu sighs.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>::</p>
<p> </p>
<p>A tall, gangly boy comes up to them to take their first order of meat, holding a notepad in one hand and a pen in the other. “<em>Ano pong order niyo</em>, sir?” The top of his ears flush red when he realizes that Sakusa and Suna are looking at him with blank expressions on their faces, corrects himself and stammers out, “Can I take your order, sir?” He tilts the brim of his cap down his forehead in an attempt to hide his face in embarrassment.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The corners of Osamu's face tilts upward and he flashes him a lazy smile, juxtaposed with kind, crinkled eyes and unending patience. “'S okay. We can understand a little bit of Tagalog <em>naman</em>.” The boy's face lights up in a childlike way and Osamu turns to Sakusa, whispering in low Japanese, “Babe, what do you want to order?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sakusa shrugs, then points at something on the menu. <em>Wagyu</em> beef or something, Atsumu reads as he looks from across the table. Their server jots it down on his checklist of meats. Sakusa turns then to Suna, who's sitting across from him. “Rin, what would you like?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Atsumu tilts the menu toward Suna. He skims over it and picks out something called *bulgogi*. The description, in such small yellow text, tells them that it is sirloin beef strips marinated in sesame oil. Atsumu goes for a classic pork belly cut; Osamu for ribeye steak. Osamu throws in a small amount of cheese for dipping. No rice.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“<em>Kuya</em>,” Atsumu says, closing the menu, “that's it <em>po </em>for now.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>When the server leaves and trudges toward the kitchen, Sakusa immediately asks, “Why are you calling him <em>kuya?</em>” He scoffs, then looks at Osamu. “Isn't <em>kuya</em> supposed to be used for an older brother? He's younger than you.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It's,” Osamu struggles, “really just something you say to be polite.” Sakusa nods despite not really understanding the point. Suna looks at them in confusion. Atsumu laughs.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>In the distance, a middle-aged woman murmurs a word under her breath. <em>Pogi</em>, was it? He'd hadn't quite understood what she just said, until the woman's teenaged daughter giggles as she looks at them and makes a passing reference to a flock of flower boys. Or maybe it was Boys over Flowers. He laughs at the thought of prickly little Sakusa being compared to Gu Jun Pyo, of all people.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The server returns soon afterward with their first choices of meat. In an attempt to balance the plates, he almost stumbles down the tables although fortunately enough, he manages to steady himself before a distaster occurs in the middle of the restaurant. However, perhaps Atsumu would have rather had their server tumbling down the table if only to free him from the inescapable sight of Sakusa and his brother being bold enough to flirt in such public places.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Atsumu coughs, Sakusa looks at him with his eyebrow raised and Osamu shoots him a glare. “We are right here, ya know, in case you forgot.” Then, he turns to Sakusa, who's shovelling a lot of cheese-covered Wagyu beef pieces into his mouth. He runs his mouth again and earns the glares of the couple. “Omi-kun, yer eating a lot today, aren't ya? <em>Naglilihi ka na ba?</em> Yer eatin' enough for two people.” (Are you on the first months of pregnancy?)</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“<em>Gago ka ba</em>,” Osamu says, swatting at him across the table. “He can't get pregnant and ya know it.” He looks at Sakusa and smiles. “It's not like he wants children, either. 'M makin' sure he's eating well. It's important to have a healthy diet so I'm feeding Omi a lot.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sakusa wraps a piece of meat in a sliver of drenched lettuce, trying to pat it dry with his fingers. “You should be feeding Rin a lot, other Miya.” Atsumu makes a face at this, and Suna looks up from his egg rolls. He does not say anything, but he passes the platter to Osamu.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Atsumu flushes when he looks at Suna. Osamu whispers in his ear, “<em>Wala kang</em> balls?” Atsumu would very much like to smack him upside the head, but he doesn't. Atsumu knows he's right. He is not exactly what you would call brave. Not brave enough to help Suna with his food. Not even brave enough to tell him anything at all.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Atsumu nudges Suna with his foot under the table. “Let me help you with that.” He takes the tongs from him and attempts to cut his beef strips into bite-sized pieces for him. Suna nudges him back.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>::</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The sun dips just over the side of the hill on the other side of the world. On this side of the world, however, Atsumu is wedged into one side of the dining table. They're having breakfast now. It seems like time moves so fast, yet still so slow in this part of the world.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Osamu is boiling vegetables that Sakusa had just chopped up. Lola Mommy brings out a can of Shiitake mushrooms from their pantry. Atsumu sets out several sets of plates, placemats and cutlery. The thick scent of broth wafts through the air and under their noses. It feels so much like they're coming home. It feels so much like home.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>::</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Night comes earlier than usual. Atsumu imagines that right now, the moon is dancing just over the top of the Taal volcano. He looks out of the window and sees nothing but darkness. An entire constellation of stars flurrying through the sheet of darkness, maybe, if only he looked hard enough, if only his eyes weren't hazy with sleep.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Now, Sakusa and Suna are sitting together across from the twins, holding a small tupperware of Rowena's Special Sylvannas. It isn't their birthday yet. There's still a few more hours to go, but it already feels like a celebration. Someone had set up the <em>karaoke</em> system, a microphone thrust into Suna's hand. He had been handed a shot of something called <em>gin bulag</em> and he drunk shot after shot of it. It was revealed to be gin, the mouth of the bottle struck with a lighter. It had given Suna enough liquid courage to belt his heart out and sing lyrics he didn't quite understand as Atsumu poured him another shot, handed him another cheese-drizzled nacho chip and laughed at his antics.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“When the night— has come—” Suna interrupts himself with a laugh before singing every other verse. He laughs and he laughs and he laughs. Atsumu has never seen him any happier. He looks so full of joy as he sings off-key to the, well, less than appropriate lyrics of a song called <em>Banyo Queen</em>, which Atsumu is sure Suna doesn't understand the meaning of. He does not tell him. Instead, he looks at him and sees the whole world in his smile. He drinks it all down.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Osamu takes the microphone away from Suna and sings into it, “<em>At pinatay ang ilaw— oh, madalas, lumalabas— Banyo Queen!</em>” (The lights had been closed— oh, often it comes out— Queen of the Bathroom!) Atsumu knows it doesn't make any sense. He knows that all of them, flushed drunk and damp with sweat, wouldn't remember all of these in the morning. Still, he shoves himself into the giggling heap of boys crammed in their three-seater couch, pulling Suna to his lap again.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Atsumu swats at Osamu when he tries to take another shot and says, “<em>Gago! Lasing ka na!</em>” (Asshole! You're already drunk!) The burdens of the world has never felt any lighter on his shoulders, not when they're in his family home, all drunk out of their minds like this. Osamu's drunk out of his mind, yet he looks so happy that it makes his heart melt a little. Atsumu doesn't know when he started getting so sappy seeing his brother act like this, but maybe, maybe it just has something to do with Osamu planning to propose to Sakusa a few months from now. Maybe it has something to do with them.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sakusa greets Osamu with a kiss on the corner of his parted mouth. Suna is not one for grand gestures as such, so he greets him with his words and hands him a piece of the sylvannas. “Happy birthday, Osamu. Have a great day and all that. You're still the better twin.” Suna looks at Atsumu now. “Happy birthday, uglier Miya.” Still, Suna holds his hand from under him. Atsumu holds it closer to his lap.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Atsumu watches as Suna takes a piece of the sylvannas for himself and puts it inside his mouth, his eyes immediately fluttering closed as he takes the first bite. There are crumbs dusting his mouth as he does this. He looks at Suna and does the same, and it all tastes so sweet. It all tastes so much like home. It feels so much like a home.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Darling, darling, stand by me.” And now, Atsumu knows that the storm that's stirring in his stomach isn't because of Osamu, who's proposing to Sakusa one of these days and getting married in Hyogo any time soon. Or Sakusa, who's been here all this time. It's all because of Suna, whom he never wants to leave his side.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>::</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Suna wakes him up and seals the distance with a soft kiss. He runs his fingers through the dark of Atsumu's hair and whispers, “I love you.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Atsumu immediately cups his face into his hands and kisses him. “I love you too. I fucking love you, Sunarin.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It took you a long time, dumbass. Now come here.”</p>
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